"Eight times three."
"Yes, and how many are eight times three?"
"Twenty——"
"Twenty-one," said Beatrice.
"Twenty-one," repeated Johnny, readily, with the air of one who has accomplished a difficult feat.
Robert frowned and bit his lips. "Eight times three are twenty-four, Johnny. Write it ten times on your slate—that will help you to remember."
"What a gift for teaching," murmured Beatrice. Robert flushed, but did not speak, and there was no sound in the room but the pencil scratching on the slate.
"Cousin Rob?"
"Yes, Johnny. What is it?"
"Why, Cousin Bee just said eight times three were twenty-one. Did she tell a lie, or didn't she know?"